The key clicked in the lock and, careful not to make a sound, I slipped into the flat. The hall was dark, a thin strip of light leaking in from the kitchen. My parents were still awake, even though the clock had already ticked past midnight. Lately this had become routinelatenight talks behind a closed door, usually quiet but occasionally slipping into a hushed argument.
I kicked off my shoes, set my laptop bag on the nightstand and made my way down the corridor to my room. I didnt want to explain why Id stayed out so late; the reason was respectablea work project that kept slipping and a deadline breathing down my neck.
Through the thin wall I could hear muffled voices.
No, Steve, I cant go on like this, Mum said softly, irritation clear in her tone. You promised back in June.
Helen, understand, now isnt the time, Dad replied, sounding like he was trying to excuse himself again.
I let out a tired sigh. My parents had been arguing constantly lately, but they pretended everything was fine when I was around. They were both over fifty, I was grown, yet it still hurt to sense something wrong in their marriage.
I stripped off my coat, brushed my teeth and crawled under the covers, but sleep wouldnt come. My thoughts kept looping. My brother Chris lived in Bristol and only visited now and then. If Mum and Dad decided to split, who would get the flat? Why were they keeping their problems hidden?
The voices behind the wall kept going. I reached for the nightstand and felt for my headphones, hoping to drown out the secrets with music. My hand brushed the phone and it clattered onto the carpet. Picking it up, I accidentally opened the voicerecorder. My finger hovered over the screen.
What if I recorded them? Just to find out what was really happening instead of guessing. If I asked directly, theyd probably brush me off and say everything was fine.
A pang of conscience hit me. Eavesdropping felt wrong, let alone recording. But they were my parents, my family. I had a right to know if something serious was afoot.
Resolute, I turned the recorder on, placed the phone closer to the wall and pulled the blanket over my head.
The next morning, getting ready for work, I noticed both Mum and Dad looked exhausted. Over breakfast they barely spoke, exchanging only the usual pleasantries.
You came back late last night, Mum observed, pouring tea. Stayed late at the office again?
Yes, the project ran over, I nodded. Did you both manage to get any sleep?
Just watching a film, Mum waved it off without looking at me.
Dad buried his face in the newspaper, pretending the article held his full attention.
Dont expect me for dinner tonight, he said without raising his eyes. Ive got client meetings and might be late.
Mum pursed her lips but said nothing.
The whole commute to the office I fought the urge to play the nights recording. The underground was packed, and it felt too shameful. I decided to wait until evening.
The day dragged on. When I finally got home, Mum was gonea note on the kitchen table said shed gone to a friends and would be back late. Dad was still at work, just as hed promised. Perfect timing.
I flopped onto the sofa, wrapped a blanket around me, and pressed play.
At first only fragments of speech came through, then the words cleared.
should we tell Emily? Dads voice sounded uneasy.
I dont know, Mum sighed. Im afraid she wont understand. So many years have passed.
But she has a right to know.
Of course she does, but how do we explain why we kept silent all this time?
I froze. What were they hiding? What truth were they keeping from me?
Do you remember how it all started? Dad asked, a hint of a smile in his tone.
Of course, Mum chuckled. I thought it would be a shortterm thing, turned out to be lifelong.
Its been a strange life, Dad muttered. Though at times it was tough.
Especially since Emily arrived.
My heart sank. Especially? Was I an unwanted child? Or something else?
But we managed, Dad continued. Shes grown into a wonderful person.
Yes, Mums voice swelled with pride, and I felt a small relief. Now we just need to decide what to do next. Im tired of this double life, Steve.
A double life? The thought that one of them might be having an affair made my stomach turn.
Helen, lets wait for Chris to get back. Well sort it all out together, as a family.
Alright, Mum agreed. No more postponements. Either we change everything, or
The recording cut off, probably because they left the kitchen or the phone stopped.
I sat there stunned. What was happening with my family? Why wait for Chris? I had a thousand questions and no answers. Should I record another conversation? That felt too far. Better to call Chris, maybe he knew something, or Aunt Vera, Mums sister, whos always been straightforward with me.
I decided Id phone Chris the next day and, on the weekend, visit Aunt Vera.
Chris didnt answer all day; he finally called just before dusk.
Hey, Emily, sorry, I was on site and left my phone in the van, he sounded as upbeat as ever.
Chris, when are you coming back? I asked straight away.
This weekend, yeah, whats up?
Mum and Dad are acting strange lately.
Strange how? His tone grew cautious.
Theyre whispering at night, pretending everythings fine. Talking about some double life.
Silence.
Chris?
Im here, he cleared his throat. Look, people have secrets, even parents. If they dont bring it up themselves, maybe theyre not ready. Wait for me, ok? Ill be there Saturday, then we can talk.
Fine, I replied reluctantly. What about Aunt Vera?
Dont, he said quickly. Keep it between us.
His reluctance only deepened my anxiety. Was there an affair? A family scandal I didnt want to hear about?
That evening Mum came back from her friend, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.
Guess what, Emily, Tims selling his flat! she announced at the door. He wants to move to the countryside, says city lifes getting too noisy.
I nodded, unsure how to react.
Would you like to live in the country? I asked, surprising myself.
Mum paused, then answered cautiously:
I dont know sometimes it does sound appealing. Fresh air, a garden
And Dad?
What about Dad?
Ask him yourself, Mum said, suddenly serious. Hell be home late tonight, dont expect him for dinner.
Dad arrived earlier than promised, just as I was pouring tea.
Dad, want a cuppa? I called.
On my way, he replied, shedding his tie as he entered. Wheres Mum?
Shes watching a film, I said, handing him a mug. Hows work?
All right, the client finally agreed to our terms, so were launching the project, he said, sinking into a chair. Anything else on your mind?
Actually, yes, I ventured. Is there something important you both want to tell me?
He stared at me, eyebrows knitting.
Where did you get that from?
Chris mentioned something, I lied, not meeting his eyes. He said youd explain everything when he gets back.
David, my father, rubbed his nose.
Yes, theres a conversation we need to have. But lets wait for Chris, ok? Itll be better then.
Is it a divorce? I asked directly.
What? he looked genuinely shocked. No, of course not! Why would you think that?
You keep whispering, Mum talked about a double life.
His expression shifted from confusion to dawning comprehension, then to relief.
Emily, youve got it all wrong, he sighed. No divorce. In fact he stopped, choosing his words. Well sort it out this weekend, I promise. Nothing scary.
Really? I asked.
Absolutely, he squeezed my hand reassuringly. Now have some tea before it gets cold.
That night sleep eluded me. I lay awake piecing together fragments of the nights recording. If not a split, then what? Illness? Money trouble? A move? The thought of a move made my stomach turn. Id just started to get my career moving, my friends in London, I loved the city.
Then a soft knock on my door.
Cant sleep? Mum peeked in.
No, I propped myself on my elbow. What were you and Dad talking about?
Nothing special, just work and Chris coming over, I shrugged. Hell be here tomorrow.
I know, Mum said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Do you think everythings alright between us?
I just want to know, I confessed.
She gave me a strange smile.
Its fine. Life throws surprises at us even when were over fifty. We just have to decide how to deal with them.
Good surprises or bad?
Both, she brushed my hair as she used to do when I was a kid. Dont jump to conclusions now. Youll find out soon enough.
She kissed my forehead and left, leaving me with more questions than answers.
The weekend arrived abruptly. Chris pulled up at the house around noon, sunburned, a bag of presents in the boot and a nervous edge to his smile.
Ready for a family meeting? he joked as we settled in the living room after lunch.
Dad and Mum exchanged a glance.
Yes, I think its time, Dad said. We have news.
I held my breath.
Were moving, Mum declared.
Where to? I asked.
To a village, Dad replied. About three hundred miles from here.
Why? I turned to them, eyes flicking between the two.
Because thats where our home really is, Mum said simply. Its always been there.
It turned out the house in the village had been bought fifteen years ago. It started as a modest holiday cottage, but over the last decade theyd turned it into a fulltime farm: a garden, an orchard, a beehive, even plans for a cow.
A beehive? I asked, eyebrows raised. You keep bees?
Fifteen hives now, Dad beamed. The honey is brilliant.
Chickens, goats, and soon a cow, Mum added. Weve got a proper farm.
I stared, disbelief warring with curiosity.
So youre farmers? I blurted.
Turns out we are, Mum laughed. Do you know how many apple trees, pear trees, plums, raspberries, blackcurrants we have there?
When do you go there? I interrupted, still processing. I thought you were always at work.
Work isnt just an office in the city, Dad said. Its also the land out there.
I turned to Chris.
Did you know?
Of course, he shrugged. I helped with the extensions. The house is twostorey now.
And you never told me? I snapped. Why?
Mum and Dad looked at each other.
Because you always said you hated the countryside, Mum whispered. Remember being taken to Grans farm? Youd cry and beg to go home. When we suggested a weekend away, you always found an excuse.
That was when I was a kid! I protested. Im an adult now.
Yet you never asked where we really went, Dad noted. It felt awkward to admit we had a whole other life.
You kept it secret!
At first we didnt mean to, Mum defended. We said we were just going to the cottage. It grew into a farm, and we kept it to ourselves.
The double life I overheard, I muttered, recalling the recording.
Exactly, Dad nodded. In the city were office workers; out there were farmers. And were genuinely happy.
So you want to move permanently? What about your jobs?
I retire next month, Mum said. And Dad has arranged to work remotely, only coming into the city once a week.
The flat?
We can leave it to you if you want, Dad offered. Or sell it and split the proceeds. Its your call.
I slumped back on the sofa, the weight of the revelation sinking in.
So youve had an entire farm all this time and I never knew, I said, bitterness tinging my voice. Brilliant.
We didnt mean to hide it, Mum moved beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. We just didnt know how to tell you without upsetting you. Forgive us.
I stayed quiet, absorbing everything. Then I asked:
Can I come and see? The house, the farm?
Of course! Dad beamed. Tomorrow if you like.
Tomorrow, I confirmed. Ill go with you.
That night sleep still evaded me, a mix of irritation, curiosity and a strange excitement. How many years had I missed while chasing deadlines, climbing the corporate ladder, meeting friends in the city?
The next morning we piled into the car. The farther we drove from London, the more animated Mum and Dad became, rattling off stories about neighbours, soil tests, the sauna Dad built himself, and Mums newfound love for canning.
As the motorway gave way to a country lane, Mum turned to me.
Weve wanted to tell you for ages, especially now that were moving for good. We were scared of how youd react.
Thought youd laugh at us, Dad added. City retirees pretending to be farmers.
I wouldnt laugh, I said quietly.
We get that now, Mum smiled. Youre grown, and we should have trusted you more.
The car stopped at the gate of a sizeable estate, where a handsome timber house perched among rolling fields. A cow lowed in the distance, chickens clucked, and the scent of fresh earth filled the air.
Welcome to our real home, Dad turned off the engine and faced me. Ready to meet our secret life?
I nodded, opened the car door, and stepped onto the grass. The scent of cut grass and blooming roses hit me instantly. Chris was already unloading his bags, grinning.
I still cant believe you kept this whole life from me, I shook my head. But you know what? Im intrigued.
Mum hugged me tightly.
Were glad youre here. We even set up a spare room for you, just in case you want to spend weekends here.
Or maybe a summer? Dad suggested.
I smiled.
Lets talk about that later. First, show me the bees. I want to know why you swapped city lights for beehives.
We walked down the lane toward the beehives, and for the first time in years I felt Id gained more than a family secret Id discovered a whole new world that might just have a place for me too.
